Better Than Porn
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Oneshot, post Caged. McGee basks in the glow of his co-workers' admiration. Or...Tony's disappointment that women's prisons aren't like TV, anyway.


Disclaimer: Cone snails have it and they're quite venomous. I daren't risk it just to get my disclaimer back.

Spoilers: _Caged_.

Summary: McGee attempts to explain his newfound confidence to a single-minded Tony.

* * *

Exasperated, McGee set his glass of chardonnay carefully on the polished surface of the bar. "Tony, I already said…"

"I know what you said!" Tony interrupted, his vodka martini sloshing over the rim of his glass and down Ziva's neck. He was distracted for a moment as he tried to appease her while she cursed him in what sounded like at least three languages. When she'd disappeared in the direction of the ladies' room, leaving a trail of upset but not stupid patrons in her wake, McGee found that Tony hadn't even lost his train of thought. "My question to you is – how can you _say_ that?"

"I was trapped in a prison with dangerous and homicidal women!"

"I know! And you didn't see one brawl in the yard, shower fight or lesbian orgy!" McGee found it more surprising that Tony hadn't made the obvious connection between dangerous, homicidal women and Ziva, but maybe he was just waiting until she returned from the restroom. For the moment, Tony was shaking his head and staring into his drink. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Tony, are you even thinking about this?" McGee searched desperately for an analogy Tony would understand. "What if you were trapped in…a bar…during a three-day blizzard. There's no power and they ran out of alcohol right when the storm started." He went for the dagger. "And you're there with Ziva and six of her visiting Moussad co-workers."

Tony blinked several times. "_Female_ Moussad co-workers?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I wanna know if I'm gonna die happy or just die."

McGee swallowed his last sip of wine and held his glass up so the bartender could see it.

When she arrived to pour him another round, Tony grabbed her wrist, saying, "Leave the bottle."

"Tony, I'm not gonna…"

"No, no, Probie. You earned it. Sort of."

Rubbing his still somewhat sore eyes, McGee asked, "What do you mean, 'sort of'?"

"Well, you, uh…" He turned back to the bartender. "I could use another one, too. Oh, and I think I'm paying for our other friend's drinks for the rest of the night, so she'll need another, and just put everything on my tab." McGee made another half-hearted attempt to pay for his own drink, but Tony insisted, "I got this. You had to pay for your car, so tonight's on me."

"I thought you were buying me drinks because I survived a prison riot."

"It was _not_ a riot. And I've already expressed my disappointment with your lack of details."

"My report was highly…"

"Booooring. Even your book was more interesting than that snooze-fest. No nudity, no girl-on-girl action, and the only sex was really disturbing and not at all sexy. Ow!" Tony rubbed his arm where Ziva had just punched him. "I wasn't talking about _you_."

"That was for spilling on me."

"It was an accident!"

"It happened because you will not leave poor McGee alone because his experience failed to match anything you would read about in your _Playhouse Letters_."

"Penthouse," Tony corrected. "_Penthouse Letters_. And those weren't mine."

"Right. Your friend was just storing them under your bed while he…vaccinated orphans in Tanzania? Was that it?"

McGee smiled and poured himself another glass of chardonnay while Tony concentrated on maintaining his best serious face. "Ethiopia. I'm pretty sure it was Ethiopia."

McGee suddenly realized something wasn't right. "Wait a second. How does Ziva know what's under your…"

Tony clapped his hands together as he interrupted, "Hey, Abby should be here soon. What time does nun bowling end?"

"Nine," Ziva provided, "although she said it may take longer if they win. Apparently nuns celebrate victory with chocolate milkshakes. Is that some sort of Roman Catholic tradition?"

"No. I've always wondered how Abby hooked up with bowling nuns, though."

She shrugged, leaning into him. "Church?"

"Can you picture Abby in church?" Tony chuckled. "Y'know, I dated this sorority girl in college. She would get so wasted every Saturday night that she would still be drunk when she got to church Sunday morning, but she still always went. I guess some people are just religious like that."

"Are you implying that Abby is a drunken sorority girl?"

McGee noted that Ziva stepped away from Tony very quickly when Abby unexpectedly said, "Why would I join a sorority? Were you guys gossiping about me while I wasn't here? Oh, am I going undercover as an undergrad? I'm am so gonna kick freshman chemistry's ass!" She accepted the beer bottle Tony handed her. "I mean, I think it's about time that I got the full NCIS experience instead of just hanging out in the lab all the time."

"So you want to be taken hostage?" McGee asked.

"And shot at?" Ziva added.

"Or sent to sea for months at a time?"

Tony's example was the one that earned a hug; McGee rolled his eyes when he stuck out his tongue from over Abby's shoulder. She let him go a few long moments later, saying, "Okay, so maybe the lab is more my speed." She took a seat on a stool that had just become free. "So I saw your car outside, McGee. Did you give the repair shop the same mojo you worked on the felonistas?"

"Don't worry, Abs. I'm sure McGee was the same as he was on the inside – as in, he paid the mechanic in cash rather than sexual favors."

McGee brushed away the hand Tony was patting his shoulder with. "Is that all you could think about when I was in there?"

"Well…"

Ziva nudged Tony aside with her elbow. "He did not want anyone to know how concerned he was."

"Yeah, about having to break in a new Probie. You missed the first days of the McGee era, Ziva, and let me tell you that you do not want to have to housebreak one of these." Tony ruffled McGee's hair for emphasis. "We had to move the furniture around to cover the stains. You think I _like_ the filing cabinet where it is?" McGee could feel his friends' eyes on him, but continued to calmly sip his wine. Tony finally asked, "What, no indignant comeback?"

"I spent the day locked in a room full of homicidal women." He glanced at Ziva nervously. "Actual homicidal women."

Correctly interpreting his glance, she gave Tony another punch. "What was that for?"

"I think you know."

McGee smirked, enjoying the minor victory. "I'm just saying that after that experience, Tony doesn't seem quite as…" he searched for a less loaded synonym for intimidating, coming up with, "bothersome."

"Hey, I…" McGee tuned out the argument that Tony and Ziva got into, finding that he was about to finish the bottle of wine the bartender had left with him. He was either starting to feel buzzed or had acquired so much confidence that he was no longer self-conscious about the questionable manliness of drinking white wine at a bar with his co-workers. It was just that he didn't think he could drive if he had even one of the vodka martinis that Tony and Ziva were both drinking tonight. He was amazed that they were both still standing and walking with no…he got his arms up just in time to prevent Tony from falling into him.

"I was gonna say it! You didn't have to push me so hard." Tony collected himself and looked McGee in the eye. "I'm glad you're okay, Probie. And, uh, you, uh, did good today. Y'know, with the…yeah."

"It's okay." McGee stood confidently and buttoned his jacket. "I have to get home to feed Jethro and take him for his walk. Thanks for the drinks, Tony."

"You earned 'em, McGee. I bet you could even take a walk around your block without the dog for protection."

He held up his hand to stop Ziva from carrying out the threat she was making behind Tony's back. "Don't push it, Tony."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, maybe in your next book Agent Tommy can have a fun experience in a women's prison."

McGee hugged Abby and Ziva goodnight before replying, "I don't think so."

Tony hung his head. "Oh. Okay."

McGee strode out of the bar. His car started with a satisfying rumble and was pretty sure he laid a patch of rubber pulling out of the parking lot.


End file.
